Beyond Skin Deep
by AquaWasHere
Summary: Clary's always hated Jace. But when her life is shattered by tragedy, she may realize they're more alike than she ever thought possible. AU- Many different couples involved. Rated M cause idk what might happen lol.
1. Prologue

Life. People takes it for granted. Like it's here, and it always will be- forever. Maybe it's because they're healthy and alive now, and in their mind, things will always be this way. But things are _not _always like this. Because you know one of the few things about life that I know for certain?

It ends. Whether we want it to or not.

And no matter whose life it is that's ending, we can't stop it. No matter how hard we might try.

**A/N: I know it's short, so go read chapter one now, it's up too. XD**


	2. Chapter 1

I've always found popular people annoying. They are so shallow, I can't stand it. They dislike people just because they're different. They all look the _same. _In short, they are conforming douches. In my opinion. So of course, I hated Jace Wayland.

That morning, the beginning of everything, I saw him in the hallway. I was walking to Honors biology when I passed him as he was heading the other direction. On either side of him were his foster siblings, Isabelle and Alec Lightwood. Jace's parents had died in a car accident when we were in fifth grade, so his father's best friend and his family took him in as their own son. Ever since then, Jace had been a humongous asshole.

With their tall, thin frames, dark hair, and deep blues eyes, Alex and Isabelle fit the popular crowd perfectly. The new in thing was 'punk', though the music they called punk was so far from the real thing you could tell not one of them had ever even _glanced_ at a Black Flag CD. With his golden hair and eyes, Jace stood out in the popular crowd, but he was so good looking and conceited, it didn't matter. As I rushed by him and his friends, I remember thinking, _How annoying that the most shallow people in the world are usually the best looking. It's not fair. _

Walking past them and forgetting about it, I made my way into the biology room. It was the last period, and I was pretty cheerful. I plopped down in my regular seat next to my best friend, Simon. "Hey, Fray," he greeted me.

"Hi, Simon." I leaned over, trying to read what was on his paper. "What are you writing?"

"I'm not writing anything," he told me with a look of disgust. "Eric is. Unfortunately. Poetry, to be specific. If you can call it that." The last part was a mutter.

"That bad?" He nodded. "What? Is it about when Sheila Barbarino bends over?" I smirked. "He probably enjoys that."

"God, I wish. It's about… his longing for certain activities."

"Ew." I shuddered. "Why are you reading it?"

"I didn't know it was about _that!" _Simon said indignantly. "At least he didn't use the word 'loin' this time."

As I snickered, the Biology teacher, Ms. Wilkes, entered the room. "Did everyone finish their essays on cells on time? I hope so, because you get to read them to the entire class today!" As everyone groaned, she said cheerfully, "Surprise!"

As his awful luck would have it, Simon was picked to go first. As he walked to the front of the room, I gave him an encouraging smile. _FML, _he mouthed silently, and I grinned. Poor Simon. Grabbing my sketchpad from the bottom of my stack of school crap, I began to draw, as he said dully, "Cells are tiny pieces of our bodies. While they are not the smallest thing you could break down, they can be seen only through a microscope…"

I didn't hear anything after that. I was in my own little world, and it was considerably more interesting there. My hand moved across the paper, and as I watched, a girl's head formed, then a body, then arms, legs, hands, feet… Detail after detail appeared as I thought of what to create. She was young, about ten years old, with a sweet face, and beautiful, curly, short blonde hair. She smiled, but her eyes were haunted, as if she knew a terrible secret that no one else did. I began to imagine that secret as I gave her clothes, and then the shrill sound of a school bell rang. I jumped slightly. _How has it been half an hour? _I wondered.

"Those of you who have yet to share may do so tomorrow. Happy Thursday, everyone!" Ms. Wilkes called as we flooded out of the classroom.

"How was my essay, Clary?" Simon asked me curiously.

"Uh… very well written and… informative."

"Liar. You didn't hear a word I said. You were too busy drawing." His eyes shined knowingly, and I felt a little guilty. I should have been listening like a good, supportive friend. But really, who wants to hear an essay on _cells, _for crying out loud?

"Sorry. But if it helps, I would listen if I thought you actually cared," I told him.

"Well, it might help," he said. "A little."

"Good. Let's go, my mom said I needed to come straight home today." She'd been acting really strange, saying that she had something she wanted to talk about. I was concerned; lately she'd looked so drawn out and worried. I hoped we weren't running low on rent… but surely not! She'd been selling more paintings than ever. She, like me, was an artist. My step dad, Luke, always said that we were the most talented artists he knew of. But I doubted that.

With Simon at my side, I strode down the street to the subway, taking large steps to make up for my short legs. "So," he said, "what's wrong with you?"

I blinked, surprised. "Huh?"

"Why are you so worried?"

_How did he know I was worried? _"I'm not. I'm fine."

"You are not fine," he said firmly. "I know you. What's going on?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly, unable to lie to him. "My mom seems really stressed, and she said she needs to talk to me. I just hope everything's okay."

"I'm sure everything's fine," Simon reassured me in that familiar, comforting voice of his. "I mean, she would've told you earlier if it was something serious, right?"

"I guess," I murmured, but I wasn't really sure. By that time we'd reached the subway, and we boarded our train. The entire ride back I was silent, looking out the window as the dirty walls outside passed by, blurring together, with no defining traits to tell how far we had gone.

Simon patted my shoulder as the train came to a stop where we would get off. "I'm sure everything's fine," he repeated, as we slipped off the train and up the steps out of the subway, in the direction of my apartment.

"I know." But I had some gut instinct telling me there was something very, very wrong. In a short time, we reached my apartment complex. "See you tomorrow," I said, forcing a smile.

He grinned back. "Yeah, see you. Call me once you find out what's going on."

I nodded agreement, and entered my building. The lobby was dim, lit only by a small sky light at the top of the ceiling. I raced up the stairs to my door, and after unlocking the door, I went into my apartment.

My mother was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. I dropped my pin-covered backpack on the ground as she said, "Hey, sweetie, how was your day?"

"Fine, for it being school. Yours?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She swallowed. "Clary, I have something I need to tell you."

"Yeah, Mom?" I sat down next to her, hands clenching with nervous energy.

She gave me a weak smile, and she said the last thing I ever expected her to say: "Clary… I have cancer."

**A/N: CLIFF HANGER! XDDD And just clearing things up… I'm pretending Jace was actually Michael Wayland's son for now. So yeah. XD I'll try to finish chapter one soon!**


	3. Chapter 2

I stared at my mother, unable to speak. It felt like my whole world had shrunk to only hold that one phrase: _I have cancer. _"No," I said, finding my voice. _"No. _You're healthy, you're… you're not sick! You can't be!"

"Clary, I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. He gave me the results of the tests, and they were positive." Mom's eyes, identical to mine, looked so sad.

"_Then get a second opinion!" _I didn't know why I was screaming, but I was, and I couldn't stop. "There are so many different tests and treatments and doctors… you have to get a second opinion!" I stopped, panting. _No. No, no, no. Not my mom. No!_

"Yesterday's appointment," Mom told me, "was my second opinion. My first appointment was last week." My breathing hitched. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. "I'm so sorry, Clary, I should have told you sooner. I was hoping that it was all a big misunderstanding, and I didn't want to upset you for nothing. But now… I'm sure. I start radiation treatments next week."

Finding my voice, I said quietly, "Mom, the whole truth is always the best thing. _Always._ I can't believe you and Luke have been hiding this from me all week!" I felt tears dripping down my cheek, and wiped them away angrily.

Mom looked away, mouth turning down slightly at the corners. "Luke," she admitted, "doesn't know yet."

I stared. "How," I demanded, "_how _could you keep this from us? We had the right to know! You can't just keep it to yourself, it's not fair! Not when it's something like this!" The tears wouldn't stop coming now. Not wanting my mother to see me cry, I turned and ran from the room. As I headed for the stairs, I nearly collided with Luke, who was just getting home from work.

"Clary?" he said, surprised. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't bear to look at him. He had no idea what was going on. He still didn't know. I just shook my head and dashed upstairs, into my room. I collapsed onto my bed, thinking only one thing: _Please, let me wake up. This has to be some kind of nightmare. I'm tired of it, I can't take it anymore… I need to wake up!_

I heard Luke's voice, muffled by distance: "Jocelyn? What's going on? Why is Clay so upset?"

I felt my heart break. _I don't want to hear this… _Yet I couldn't bring myself to cover my ears. "Luke, there's… there's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" I could imagine him going to her, covering her hands in his. "What's wrong?"

"I…" She sighed. "I'm sick, Luke."

"Oh. Well," he said, sounding slightly confused, "do you want some medicine? Do you need to see a doctor?"

"I've… already been to the doctor. He told me what's wrong."

Voice tight, Luke said, after a slight pause, "…And?"

"I… I have…" Mom's voice broke, and I knew it had to be so hard for her to tell him this awful, unbelievable news.

In the end, she didn't have to tell him. Luke wasn't stupid. He figured it out on his own. "Oh, God… Oh, God, Jocelyn…" I knew he was hugging her now, tightening his arms protectively. So quiet that I wasn't sure if I was hearing things or not, I thought I could hear him whisper brokenly, "_…No…"_

I clamped my hands over my mouth, repressing sobs. Mechanically, I reached for my phone, and dialed a very familiar number. After two rings, Simon's voice answered, "Hey, Clary? Did everything end up alright?"

I lost it. Crying desperately, I said, "Simon, my mom, she… she…"

"Clary, shh, calm down. What's going on?"

"My mom… cancer…"

I heard him suck in a breath. "I'm on my way." There was a click, and then he was gone. Tears still running down my face, I dropped my head onto my pillow. Suddenly, I was really mad. Not at my mom; she couldn't help what was wrong with her. I was mad at myself.

_Why did I yell at her…?_

Tears still dripping down my face, I breathed heavily into my pillow and waited for Simon.

_There had been times in my life that I'd been sad, desperate. Hurt. Devastated. But never, ever had I felt like this. It was worse now than when I first found out. I watched as he was wheeled out of the room._

_He looked up at me and gave a slightly forced grin. "Hi."_

"_Hey."_

"_I know I don't have hair anymore," he said, "but I have scars, now. Will the girls still like me?"_

_Carefully, I leaned down and patted his shoulder. "Of course they will," I told him, making myself smile. "You're a sexy beast."_

"_Just like you!" he exclaimed. He giggled happily, and in that moment I swear my heart broke._

"Clary?"

I opened my eyes and looked up to see Simon. Without thinking, I threw myself into his chest. I felt his arms wrap around me as he whispered, "It's okay. It's okay. I am so sorry. God, Clary, I am so, so, sorry."

Against his chest, I choked, "She's known… for a _week. _She never… told me. Ever. I hardly even suspected it. I was just… worried that she was mad at me."

We were silent for a while, except for my sniffles. Then, Simon said, "…Do you know what kind it is?"

I shook my head, pulling away slightly from him. "She didn't tell me before I left the room."

"Do you want to go talk to her?" Simon asked.

"I guess." I felt bad for yelling at her earlier, but I had been out of control; surely she knew that. I stepped away from Simon and walked slowly downstairs, him following behind me. Hesitantly, I entered the living room. "Mom? Luke?"

They were sitting next to each other on the couch. Mom's eyes were red from crying, Luke's face was white and tense. I swallowed and murmured, "Mom?"

She looked up at me. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. But… I have some questions."

She braced herself, and I felt Simon grab my hand. "Well then, shoot."

By the end of that discussion, I knew that she had stage four breast cancer, that it was very difficult to treat, and that she most likely would not survive it. My mom would most likely die within the year. _No. No. No. No. _She was my mother, I needed her! For God's sake!

_This isn't happening, _I thought numbly as I walked Simon to the door. "You sure you'll be okay?" he asked me for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, Si, I'll be fine. See you at school tomorrow."

He gave me a little half smile. "See you, Fray." He smoothed a hand over my head, and before I could be surprised, he was gone.

**A/N: I know, this took freaking forever. I have no excuse except that for some reason this chapter was really hard to write. I promise, I'll try to update more often from now on. :/**


End file.
